The Sand That Trickles Through The Hourglass
by snsw25kr14
Summary: The hunt was suppossed to be simple, but instead it ended with disasterous results for Dean. John blames Sam and bitter words are thrown. When Sam soon finds himself in a world that isn't his own, will his shattered family be fixable?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to Supernatural, I am just playing in the sandbox with my pale and shovel for the time being.

**Author Note: **So this story has been on my profile under the "Coming Soon" section, I so far have 6 chapters completed. So this story should be updated more frequently then my other stories. Of course I haven't forgotten about those stories, but I really wanted to get this story up and out there. Please leave a review, they make me smile, especially if I see that you've also added me to Author/Story Alert!

**Special Thanks: **Cindy123, this lady is great. She is my wonderful BETA. So anything that is wrong, is all my fault because I either typed it wrong or just missed it.

**Rating: T**-the language is quite colorful. **Genre: **Drama/Supernatural/Hurt-Comfort/Angst.

**Physical/Emotional Damage(Throughout the entire story): **Injured/Confused/Frusterated/Desperate/Protective-**Sam.** Sick/Injured/Worried/Pissed off-**Dean.** Pissed off/Guilty/Worried-**John.**

**Sam: 17/ Dean:21**

* * *

While the hunt should have been easy and simple, it most definitely wasn't, nothing ever was for their family. The spirit had been a nasty bastard, sneaking up on them out of nowhere at one of the worst times. However, because two of them men were busy digging out the grave, that had left one man unprotected and being unprotected, himself, had resulted in his current state. His state was critical, and that was what made the situation they were all in know so terrible.

The man driving was quiet, but the glares sent to the youngest boy in the backseat weren't going unnoticed. The youngest Winchester flinched at his father's harsh glare. He knew he was responsible for what happened. He was always held accountable for what happened on the hunts, whether it truly be his fault or not. While he had done what he was told, using whatever he could to distract the spirit away from Dean, it hadn't mattered in the end. Because in the end, Dean was still injured, no matter how hard he had tried.

He shuddered, but not from being the least bit cold, but because he couldn't imagine the punishment that his father would give him. He knew it would be severe, it always was, especially in his case. For Dean, when he messed up on a hunt or even training, his punishment wasn't much. "Run an extra lap, do target practice for another hour", his father would shout at Dean. However, when it came to Sam, it was like his father treated him like a soldier in the military. The punishment always ranged from a couple more hours of training each night, to cleaning the weapons twice a day, to finding the next hunt and getting all the research done in a day's time. Any other time he would object, try to make his father understand that he'd done everything humanly possible to help Dean, keep him from getting injured. This time, however, he fully accepted whatever punishment he was given knowing full well, he deserved it.

He closed his eyes and wiped the cool sweat off his head, wincing at the pull of blood from his hair. He knew better than to complain to his father about the injury, better to just deal with it when he had time. He wrapped his thick coat around him as cool air blew around him from the cracked Impala window. They were currently headed back to the crappy and rundown house they were renting. They had planned to leave in the early hours of the morning after a few short hours of sleep, however he know knew that they would have to stay longer due to Dean's injuries. His eyes traveled up to the passenger seat, it worried him that Dean hadn't shifted or moved since he had been put in the car. His mind could only imagine how serious Dean's injuries were.

His mind wondered even more and before he knew it they had reached the house. It was late out, nearing 3:00 in the morning and the street they were on was pitch black. Only a few other houses occupied the street and they were just as run down as the one they were living in. As the car was shut off, he caught his father's eye.

"You will unpack everything in this car and take it all in. I expect you to clean _every_ weapon we own and you will not complain, is that clear?"

His father's voice was cold, full of barely kept anger. He knew better than to even attempt to argue.

"Yes, sir."

He was desperate, now that they had reached home, to check on Dean. He wanted to tend to his brother's injuries, see just how bad they were. But mostly he wanted to apologize, let his older brother know just how sorry he was. However, his apology and wanting to tend to Dean would just have to wait till the morning. As it was though, he hauled himself out of the backseat of the Impala, Dean had already been gingerly carried inside the house by their dad, the door slammed harshly once they were in. Thankfully for him there wasn't a lot to unpack, seeing as how they hadn't taken much. He grabbed the three duffels, containing the clothes. He brought them inside, and laid them on the table. Once he was back outside and gazing at the open trunk he was wondering how exactly he was going to clean all the weapons. There were numerous guns and knives. There were also the bow and arrows, along with the different items. To clean all of these weapons to his father's approval would take hours. He had school in the morning and a huge test that was going to be extremely important. The idea of not getting much sleep didn't sit well with him, but he knew better than to protest.

The house they were occupying was very small, only two bedrooms, a small kitchen and living room and a small bathroom. He wanted to make as little noise as possible and that's why he decided to clean all the weapons in the living room. He carried both duffle bags and laid them on the couch, there were still numerous weapons in the car, but he'd start with what was in the duffels for now. As he gingerly sat his aching body on the thin carpeted floor, he heard the loud footsteps in the hallway and he stiffened.

"Sam, I expect all of these weapons to be cleaned to perfection. The guns, knives, bow and arrows, everything is to be done by tomorrow morning. "

"Yes sir." A moment of tense silence hung in the air, before he decided to risk asking his father about Dean.

"Dad…how-how's Dean?"

"That is none of your business. Get to work." The reply was harsh, no room for anything else to be asked. However, maybe apologizing to his father would work in his favor.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt Dean, I was-"

He was cut off as his father spoke bitterly to him.

"I don't care what you were doing Sam, you should have followed orders. Because of your reckless behavior we are going to be stuck here another few days and I will most likely lose Dean on the next hunt, because he will be too weak and injured. Therefore I'll have to drag your stupid sorry ass along."

He felt the tears sting his eyes, at his father's bitter words.

"Dad, I did, I mean at least I tried to do what you asked. I would never do anything to hurt you or Dean."

His father crossed the room quickly to stand over him, lips pressed into a tight line, brown eyes shining in a deadily manner.

"I don't care. You may be seventeen, but you still live under my roof. You will do, what I say, when I say it. Is that understood?"

He broke, his father's words causing him to snap.

"No, dad, it isn't good enough. I am not good enough. I see the way you look at Dean, the way you comfort him, do things and ask him things that you never ask me. I may not like this life or embrace it like you and Dean do, but at least I try. Most parents would be proud of their children for trying something that they feel they'll never be able to achieve. You could care less about what I want."  
He had stood as he spoke back to his father, their eye levels matching equally.

"What exactly is it that you want Sam?"

"I want-I want to have you as my father, not my drill sergeant. I want Dean to come home free from the weekend's hunt without cuts and bruises. I want to play sports and attend college, I just, I want something that resembles normal."

"You will never have normal. Normal was all blown to hell when Dean and I lost your mother. I raised you the way I thought fit, you may not agree with, but you damn well better respect it."

"Respect, are you fucking kidding me? You don't know the first thing about respect. You treat me like a pile of shit, while Dean is so perfect; he's the son who can do no wrong. No matter what he does or says he's still perfect. God, I have tried since I was four years old to be like Dean, because I thought, no I hoped that you would look at me with the pride you look at him with. I just—I guessed I was just wasting my breath."

"Do not stand here in front of me and give me a pity party, I refuse to hear it. Now get your ass in gear and work."

He could only watch as his father walked away. He wiped the absent tears that had fallen down his cheeks. He felt as though a part of his heart had separated from his body. Was he really that useless to his father? That useless to Dean? He desperately wished he could go back and change something, anything about his past, something that would allow him to be looked at with pride and love that only a father can give…

SN-SN-SN-SN-SN!

He had been cleaning weapons for 2 ½ hours, his hands ached, his back and head felt like they were going to split open, and it was just after 5:30 in the morning. As he carefully laid all the weapons that he'd cleaned on the floor in a straight line, he yawned, wincing when the muscles in his back pulled too tight.

He'd done what he could for the night if he didn't get a shower and a few hours of sleep, he wouldn't be leaving his bed tomorrow morning. He walked to the kitchen where he had dropped his duffle and dug through it, picking out a clean t-shirt, sweatpants, and boxers. He made his way to the bathroom as quietly as he could. As he closed the door he sighed. As he turned to look at his reflection in the mirror, he gasped. He looked nothing like what he had earlier that morning. A dark bruise was under his left eye, blood was smudged against his cheek and matted in his hair. He quickly threw off his t-shirt and winced at the colors of purple and blue that marred his ribs. Yeah, a few were probably broken. Red scratches crossed over his chest, probably from where he'd been thrown into the tree. That was one fact he'd kept from his father, while he was trying to get to Dean, the ghost had snuck up behind him and hauled his ass into a huge Oak tree. Thankfully before the ghost could throw him again, he'd gotten a blast of rock salt into it and then their dad had finally toasted the thing.

His mind swirled as he turned on the shower, temperature almost scalding. He winced at the heat, but eventually found it felt good. The water started to loosen his tight and sore muscles…one by one. He watched in disgust as the blood and grime ran off his body and swirled into the drain below. He put a small glob of shampoo into his hand and massaged into his scalp, trying to be careful of the wound on his head. He winced, as unfortunately, the shampoo reached it. When the he felt that the shampoo had done its job in cleaning his hair, he rinsed it out and could only watch once again as more blood and dirt swirled down the drain.

He grabbed the bar or soap on the ledge and washed his body, glad to find himself feeling clean. His ribs were aching the longer he stood and as he shut the water off, a sudden bout of nausea hit him, making his head spin. He squeezed his eyes shut, waited for it to pass. When it did he made quick work of grabbing his towel off the hook that it had occupied. He grabbed his boxers from the small sink and threw them on, along with his t-shirt and sweatpants. He walked to the closed bathroom door, intent to open it, get a few hours of shuteye, but then the nausea was back full force. A sudden throbbing in his temples brought him to his knees and he slumped forward, only able to utter one whispered word.

"Dean."

**Author Note: So please a review, because that would be awesome. I promise to update either Saturday or Sunday, maybe Friday depending on the response I get. : ) Oh and critiques are welcome...**

**Love,**

**Kaylee.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, just playing in the Supernatural sandbox for a while.

**Author Note: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed or added me on some kind of Alert! It means so much to me. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. : ). Oh and the next update will be: Wednesday, November 11th.

**Special Thanks: Cindy123, **thanks for being an awesome BETA. Any mistakes that someone finds are mine because I missed them.

Enjoy this chapter and leave a review…if you want too. : )

_

* * *

_

Previously...

_He grabbed the bar or soap on the ledge and washed his body, glad to find himself feeling clean. His ribs were aching the longer he stood and as he shut the water off, a sudden bout of nausea hit him, making his head spin. He squeezed his eyes shut, waited for it to pass. When it did he made quick work of grabbing his towel off the hook that it had occupied. He grabbed his boxers from the small sink and threw them on, along with his t-shirt and sweatpants. He walked to the closed bathroom door, intent to open it, get a few hours of shuteye, but then the nausea was back full force. A sudden throbbing in his temples brought him to his knees and he slumped forward, only able to utter one whispered word._

_"Dean."_

* * *

All he could hear was the steady throbbing in his ears and feel a deep, painful, ache in is temples. He took a chance of opening his eyes and immediately shut them when nausea hit him strong waves. _Deep breathes Sam, just breath._ He breathed in a few deep breaths, before attempting to open his eyes once again. This time he opened his eyes very slowly, giving them a few minutes to adjust to the ever bright sunlight shining in his eyes. When his eyes fully adjusted he took in his surroundings.

The room he was in was painted a pale, baby, blue, little fluffy white clouds lined the walls. A small, beautiful, antique looking white cribbed lined one of the walls, a shelf full of stuffed animals, and another lined with diapers and wipes, extra clothes. As he took in all of the things in the room he came to the conclusion that he was in a baby's nursery. He needed to figure out whose nursery he was in, why he was there, and how exactly he got there. Obviously no one had taken notice that he was here, or they would probably have had him arrested. He also assumed he hadn't been kidnapped, because what kidnapper would leave the victim untied and in a baby's nursery? As he stood slowly, his ribs and muscles screamed in protest. He also noticed droplets of dried blood were sprinkled on his t-shirt. It made the confusion turn more into worry.

As he walked slowly and cautiously down the hallway, nothing looked familiar. The hallway was lined with pictures, some of an older couple, others of two little boys, one who appeared to be about 4 the other boy just a baby. As he descended the stairs he noticed it walked into a family room. There was a TV and couch. There were also a few sofa chairs. He noticed a kitchen off of the living room. All in all the house looked friendly and defiantly like a family occupied it.

He knew though that just because an area or place seemed safe, that is what could make it the most dangerous. A person could begin to feel comfortable in an area and that could be your undoing while on a hunt. Although he wouldn't consider the pickle he was in a hunt, but it still presented a fairly large problem. As he walked into the living room, it didn't take long for his eyes to travel to the pictures, although right now he was more worried about figuring out what was going on, opposed to looking at pictures.

The couch seemed to call to him and as he sat down he couldn't help, but sigh. The couch had to be one of the softest couches he had ever sat on. As he sat on the couch his mind turned to other things such as his family. Where were his father and Dean? Were they looking for him, worried about him, did they even know he was missing? He couldn't see them not worrying about his well being, especially his brother, but then the thoughts of what had occurred between him and his father made his stomach clench painfully, and with Dean out of commission, his hope dropped a level.

He still had yet to discover what kind of condition Dean was in. Their father was trained in extensive first aid, given his military background, but their father didn't seem to know when enough was enough and it was time for a hospital. He could still remember as a child, when he was sick, the depths Dean would go to get him well again and healthy, when their father was away hunting, Dean was all he had and he depended on him and sometimes that type of dependence could be scary. Dean would watch over him, mother him, and now because of the situation he was in, he couldn't help Dean. All he could hope was that their father would take Dean to the hospital if Dean's condition became too much for him to handle.

He looked up as the front door opened, bringing him out of his thoughts. He was prepared for a confrontation or fight, not knowing who or even what was entering the house However when he saw who it was, his breathe caught in his throat. There was a beautiful blonde woman standing in the doorway, her blonde ringlets and vibrant green eyes showing warmth and love. He froze completely unsure of what to do.

She seemed to take no notice that he was standing a mere twenty feet away. He watched as a little boy who couldn't be more than four entered the living room. He peeked into the car seat and smiled with a childlike innocence. He smiled at the bright grin that lit up the child's face, temporarily forgetting the situation and who exactly was standing so close to him.

He listened and clung to every word that was spoken between the people in the room.

"Let's go put your brother down for a nap."

"Okay momma, then can we make cookies?"

"Of course we can baby, you want to help me put him down."

"Duh…mommy."

The little boy giggled. He followed all three people upstairs, desperate to follow and cling to what happened. He watched as the mother gently lifted the baby out of the car seat. She kissed him on the forehead and he felt his gut clench. She brought him over to the table and quickly changed his diaper, being ever so gentle, and her smile brightening when the baby giggled. He could tell as he watched her that the love for her children was that of a mother who would sacrifice everything without hesitating.

The woman sat the baby in the crib and the little boy stood the on the edge of the crib. He smiled at his little brother, pride and love at the little bundle lying down in the crib.

"Sleep well love."

"Night Sammy, I love you."

The little boy hopped off the crib, grabbing his mother's hand, a small smile lighting up his face.

"Can we go make cookies now mommy?"

"Of course we can. What kind should we make?"

"Chocolate chip cause those are daddy's favorite."

As both people exited the room, he slid against the wall when he felt lightheaded and tears swelled in his eyes as the situation as the puzzle pieces all came together. He was currently sitting in his nursery that was supposed to have burned down seventeen years ago. His dead mother and four year old little brother were currently going to be making cookies in the kitchen. Now all he had to do was figure out what the hell had happened to him and why he wasn't noticed.

* * *

**Author Note: **So here is chapter 2, updated on time, as promised! I hope you all enjoyed it and if you did, please** review**. It makes me feel happy and I had a bad evening last night, way too much going on. Blah! So just let me know what you thought, criticism welcome.

Love,

Kaylee


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to Supernatural, just borrowing. 

**Author Note: **Sorry for the belated update. I ended up with a crapload of English homework, and that's kept me really busy. Any who, thanks to all the lovely people who've updated so far, you're all wonderful. 

**Note: **Any mistakes in this chapter are mine and mine alone. I had to transfer my chapters over to my laptop and unfortunately, for whatever reason I lost the corrections that my Beta did to this. It's strange because all my other chapters that are completed have been saved with corrections, but whatever. Like I said, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

_Previously…_

_As both people exited the room, he slid against the wall when he felt lightheaded and tears swelled in his eyes as the situation as the puzzle pieces all came together. He was currently sitting in his nursery that was supposed to have burned down seventeen years ago. His dead mother and four year old little brother were currently going to be making cookies in the kitchen. Now all he had to do was figure out what the hell had happened to him and why he wasn't noticed._

He sat up, his neck aching, he hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. The room was dark; apparently he'd been asleep for some time. His stomach grumbled loudly and he knew it had been a while since he'd eaten. However, despite being hungry that was the last thing on his mind. His main concern was figuring out why he was where he was and how he got there.

Despite knowing he had to get up, find a way to get out, he didn't want to move. He just couldn't find the energy. The idea that he could see what his family was like before evil destroyed it was something that he had only dreamed about. The chance to see his mother, see the way she was gentle and loving, beautiful. His father, before he became a gruff and tough drill sergeant. Even getting the chance to see Dean with all the innocence a child should be able to have.

Numerous questions raced through his head. Where were his _old _father and brother? Were they looking for him, anxious to know where he was? Did they even care? He shook his head at the thought of them not caring. Even if his father didn't care he had faith that Dean would. Dean was his older brother, he'd come for him, figure out what was going on, he just knew it.

He stood, noting that the baby, himself, was out of the crib. He had never been in this house before, never could have imagined being given the chance to go inside. He didn't feel he had a right to walk around this house, his house. It just didn't seem right; he hadn't grown up here, experienced everything such as Christmas's and birthdays in this house. This house wasn't his, never had been, and sooner he could figure out a way to leave this place the better.

He walked slowly down the hallway, still not sure of anything. As he looked at the photos on the wall a lump caught in his throat. No evil had ever touched this place. It was home where a family, his family, was happy and safe. It was an apple pie life, the thing he'd wished for since he was seven. He heard squeals coming from downstairs. He walked downstairs, being as slow and quiet as possible. He reached the kitchen and could only watch the sight before him.

"John, would you get Dean off the counter, he's going to fall and crack his head open."

"Mary, Dean's fine. He's my big strong boy. Aren't you Dean?"

"Yes daddy, but Sammy's gonna be big and strong one day too right?"

"Yeah, buddy he is. He's gonna be just like you."

"John would put the biscuits on the table?"

"Sure, Dean you want to help me, son?"

"Yeah."

A small bowl, full of warm, buttered biscuit's where put into Dean's small hands. He scooted them on the table, his head barely clearing it. John moved the biscuits into the middle of the table and lifted Dean into his booster seat, strapping him in and scooting him closer to the table. Mary had brought Sam-himself-to the table gently holding him against her, feeding him a bottle.

"Mommy, can I tell daddy?"

"Tell me what sport?"

"I made chocolate chip cookies for you."

"You did, all by yourself?"

"No, daddy, mommy helped me."

He watched as his father laughed a rich, open laugh, he'd never heard that laugh before, not once. He felt his gut clench. They were normal, even his father. They were happy and joyful. Acting just as any normal family should. He knew though, that at least in the real world, he was nothing like his brother. He wasn't strong and brave. He was weak, that's why Dean got hurt in the first place. He sighed, not wanting to dwell on anything negative, but he wanted to enjoy watching the family in front of him.

As his mother put the rest of the food on the table his mouth watered.. It was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and biscuits, all the food smelled delicious. The hunger he had pushed aside came back in full force, now that food was so close in front of him. How was he to get food, if it seemed he was invisible? He sighed and stood against the counter, watching his family interact, all the while trying to figure out what was going on.

oOOOo

He decided he'd follow his father to work today, curious as to what his father did, before hunting consumed him. It would allow him to get out of the house and see what his father was like around people. How he talked to them and interacted with them. In this situation he knew nothing of what his family was like. Of course he knew they were very loving and warm, but was his father funny, his mother fierce and independent? What was Dean like? All these questions swirled in his head. He hoped to soon get answers.

Luckily his father didn't have to drive to work. Figuring out how he was to get in a car was something he hadn't thought of. He followed a good twenty feet behind his father, always cautious, being a hunter did that to you. No matter whether his father or his family he general couldn't see him, he wasn't going to take any chances. They arrived at the place that his father worked and he couldn't help but grin. Sure he had known his father had a love for cars, much like Dean, but the smile that graced his features when he realized just how happy his father was to be at work. He stood outside and watched as his dad talked to the people inside the shop.

"Hey Mark, Ryan what do we have today?"

"Oh, the usual, just like we do everyday."

"So John did you tell that beautiful wife of yours yet?"

"Shut it Jimmy, I will tonight."

He was confused. He had absolutely no idea what his dad wanted to tell his mom, but he figured it had to be big news if he was keeping it a secret.

"Hey can I help you kid?"

He looked behind him and saw no one. He looked at the guy that was Mark. He suddenly felt anxious and raised his index finger pointing to himself.

"Yeah you kid, do you need something."

He shook his head eyes wide.

"Mark what the hell are you talking about, there is no one there."

He blinked as his father looked where he was standing, obviously not seeing him. He blinked and slowly walked backwards as the four men in the shop talked, pointing in his direction, his father's face still full of confusion. He knew he needed to get out of here. He needed to figure out what the hell was happening. His head spun, his own family couldn't see him-that he knew for sure. But what did it mean when people, whom he didn't know, had never seen in his life, could see him and yet his own family couldn't?

* * *

_**Author Note: **__So I don't think this was my best chapter, but I hope this chapter was enjoyable. Please review, it would be most appreciated. I will try and update sometime next week, hopefully Wednesday. But give me your opinions, it'd be very awesome to see some reviews. _

_Love,_

_Kaylee _


	4. Chapter 4

Hello everyone,

I promise you all I have not forgotten about this story or any of my other stories. I have been completely swamped with school. I've had three 100 point English assignments due all in the past couple weeks. Plus upon not feeling very good and then the holidays, updating has been nearly impossible. So I wanted to let everyone know that I **will update**, I promise. I can only update when I have a few moments to breathe. I have a Thanksgiving Dinner with my dad's side of the family today, in St. Louis, Missouri, and my dad is yelling at me to get my butt moving. *grins*…

As far as this story goes, expect an update tomorrow, seeing as how the chapter is completed, I just need to edit it and tweak it a bit. : )

Much Love and Happy [be-lated] Thanksgiving,

Kaylee.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural, I am simply playing in the sandbox with the pale and shovel, Erik Kripke gave me.

Author Note: So I am finally updating as promised. I really hope you all enjoy this. I do apologize for not updating in what must seem like forever, school as kept me very, very busy. Then the holidays haven't given me much time to sit down, but today I got my first few hours to just relax. :)

Much thanks to my wonderful Beta!—_Cindy123. _All mistakes you see are mine and mine alone.

So if you read this chapter and enjoy or enjoy the story as a whole-review! Please, that would be awesome. Lol. 

_Previously…_

_He blinked as his father looked where he was standing, obviously not seeing him. He blinked and slowly walked backwards as the four men in the shop talked, pointing in his direction, his father's face still full of confusion. He knew he needed to get out of here. He needed to figure out what the hell was happening. His head spun, his own family couldn't see him-that he knew for sure. But what did it mean when people, whom he didn't know, had never seen in his life, could see him and yet his own family couldn't?_

* * *

He walked slowly away from his father and the men who were at the garage. He didn't understand what was happening. How could his own father not see him, but total strangers could? So many different thoughts and ideas swirled in his head. Maybe a curse was put on him? Then again they hadn't been hunting a witch or anything like that**,** although his family, especially his father had quite a few enemies.

Why him though? Why not send Dean or even his dad back in time? He suddenly had the thought that they had already lived in this time period and experienced things, he hadn't, meaning when he was just a baby. They had memories and shared moments that he could never hope to have. Sure he had lived in this time period, that was a given. He however remembered absolutely nothing. He had never been given the chance to meet his mother**, **nor any of his father's friends, or go to school. He never had the chance to know who the rest of his family was and what they had done. However both his father and brother had.

Sure Dean had been four when everything that they had, had been destroyed. He though got to see his family, see what his father was truly like before he had lost the one woman he had every truly loved. Dean had had the affection and loved he had always wanted. Even at seventeen he was still searching for his father's approval. It seemed to come naturally for Dean, no matter what Dean did-good or bad-there father never looked at him differently. However, for himself it didn't matter what he did or said he was never good enough.

He had a brief thought that maybe the reason his father's approval came so natural to Dean was because he was with their father and had already started growing up with the man before tragedy struck their home. Before everything their family had stood for and believed in was wiped away, like it had never been there to begin with. But tragedy or not a father should love his children equally, despite their flaws and fears. But unfortunately it wasn't the case for his family.

It also didn't help that he always felt he was to blame for his family being ripped apart. He knew he was different. It wasn't because he was unnaturally tall and lanky, or even the fact that he hated hunting and wore his heart on his sleeve. It was more than that, it felt as though something was in his blood. Of course he would never confess his fears to Dean, despite being his big brother and confident, this was something he wouldn't share with his brother because he refused to be laughed at or the exact opposite and watched over by Dean 24/7.

Dean. He suddenly gulped and was very thankful he had walked his way to a park. He hadn't realized he had, but he took the opportunity to sit down. He rested his head in his hands. He wondered if Dean was okay. Was he still alive and breathing? His father had never mentioned the condition of Dean, when he was back, well in the future. The fact that no news had been presented on his brother made him worry, especially since he had no idea how he could even get any news.

As he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, his head pounded-well he at least noticed it now. The ache that was radiating from his temples, clear down into his eyes, made his stomach roll. Being in the "family business" he had his own fair share of extensive injuries, but he'd gladly take a broken wrist over a migraine. When he got a migraine he usually didn't leave bed for two days. Here though he didn't have that luxury so all he could do was try and find some pain killers and a good meal. His stomach growled at the thought of food and he realized he didn't know how long it had been since he'd eaten, but he figured a good day or so. He was suddenly thankful for the fact that people, no matter whom--excluding his family of course--were able to see him. It was also good that Dean had decided to hustle pool nearly every night they were on the hunt. Luckily he had split the earnings so he had about $300.00 in his wallet. He didn't know his way around the town, but he figured it couldn't be too difficult. The town wasn't exactly Chicago.

Ashe sat down at the table the waitress had led him too he sighed. His head still pounded and all he wanted to do was curl up on a nice soft couch and sleep, but he didn't even have a couch to sleep on. The smell of frying bacon and coffee filtered through his nose; making his mouth water. The town, despite its small appearance, had been a little bigger than he had anticipated. He had gotten lost twice before finally getting the courage up to ask for directions, something a Winchester just didn't do. A little old lady kindly had pointed him in the direction of one of the best diners and he thanked her quickly before entering.

As he sat there listening to the laughter of children and the pages being turned on different newspapers, he felt a little more relaxed. Even though he wanted quiet, due to his head, the loud environment reminded him of the diners his father had taken him too throughout the years and he didn't feel so alone. The waitress that led him to his seat was pretty enough, dark black hair, piercing blue eyes, and olive skin. Had Dean been around the waitress wouldn't have stood a chance.

"What can I get for ya?"

"I'll have a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel with a hash brown."

"What'll have to drink?"

"I'll have the strongest coffee available."

"That will be ready in fifteen minutes or so."

"Thank you"

She smiled almost amused before walking away. He slumped in his seat. He wondered how bad he smelled. He hadn't had a shower in a nearly two days. It made him feel disgusted to think of how bad he must look and smell. He hated not being able to take a shower every day, although while he was currently occupying his home, it didn't feel right to attempt to take a shower. He planned on getting a motel later on. That wayhe could still shower and sleep comfortably, which would maybe relieve his headache. Also it might allow him to have some peace and quiet and figure out what was going on.

"Here ya go."

A plate was placed in front of him and his mouth immediately began to water. The breakfast looked delicious.

"Thank you."

The pretty waitress nodded before once again walking off. He quickly took a bite of his food and couldn't help the little moan that escaped. It was like he had died and gone to heaven, because he certainly didn't realize just how hungry he was.

"The food is pretty good here isn't it?"

He looked up, making sure to wipe his mouth. Standing before him was a plump lady whose skin color was dark chocolate brown. Her bright, dark brown eyes were mischievous and slightly confused.

"Yes it is ma'am."

The woman sat in front of him, her eyes studying him. She smiled warmly, it lighting her whole face up.

"My goodness Sam you have such wonderful manners. This day n' age not many boys have em' anymore."

He froze at hearing his name slip from the woman's lips. He had no idea who she was or where she came from. However she seemed to know him, well at least his name.

"How do you know my name?"

She closed her eyes, grabbing one of his hands and holding it gently. A small smile graced her features before she opened her eyes, now only sadness and acceptance shown in them.

"I think we need to talk."

"I-I don't even know who you are."

"You can trust me, all I want to do is help."

"That's what they all say."

As he stood to get up and leave, the look on the woman's face stopped him. She looked anxious and hopeful, his radar wasn't going off-his instincts weren't telling him to run, so he stayed, warily watching the woman in front of him.

"Something sent you here, didn't it? It sent you here for a reason, a reason that you can't figure out or understand by yourself. I can help you, maybe not fully, but just a little."

He didn't feel fear from this woman, just complete trust. His instincts as a hunter told him to trust her, let her help him. God knows he needed someone right now.

"Okay, I'm Sam, but I guess you already knew that."

"Yes I did and I am Missouri Mosley."

* * *

**Author Note: **Alright there is the official Chapter 4. Hehe. I know -GASP- Missouri is know in the story. I really loved her character from the first time we saw her and thought this would be a perfect oppurtunity to include her. Hope you guys don't mind. I really am enjoying giving this story to you guys. I hope you all enjoy reading it and if you do—PLEASE REVIEW. I love getting feedback, especially from the people who read and enjoy my work—so just let me know. :).

**Love,**

Kaylee.


End file.
